St Brieuc - La Bernard Hinault – 19^th June 2010

Subtitle: Hills, hills and yet more bloody hills!

The day dawned overcast with a light mizzle falling; not at all promising. We arrived at the race venue at about 09:00 in two cars. Four of us were registered for the race, Daniel and I were set for the 120 kms Sportif, and the other two Jean and Thibault were registered for the 90 kms race.

Another club mate, Englishman Andy Shaw, one of the Club’s very best riders, registered for the 195 kms. Andy has a young family and a very nice camper van, so spent the night before the race in St Brieuc.

Now, St Brieuc is on the northern coast of Brittany about an hour and a half away from Guilliers. It is a low-lying coastal town, fairly industrial and not very attractive. It is surrounded by hills; all the roads leading into it go down steeply. Conversely, all the roads leading out of it rise sharply, fabulous when you are starting out on a long bike race; just what you need.

The race starts were staggered in an attempt to co-ordinate the finishing times and Andy’s race had already started by the time we arrived and began setting up our bikes. Our race started at 10:30 hrs, so Daniel and I had plenty of time to set out for a couple of miles shake-down ride to loosen off our legs and make sure the bikes were operating properly; tyres fully inflated, gears working etc. etc.

Now for the good bit:

Daniel and I arrived at the start point with about 20 minutes to go and filtered to the front to get a good start position.

The race is organised by Bernard Hinault’s charity ‘La Bernard Hinault’ I think it supports Disabled sports – a disabled race started just before ours. I was expecting the Great Man himself to turn up just to start the race, but to my great surprise he and a number of his relatives (they all had the same Hinault name in the results sheet), arrived just before the start. They all looked really smart in their brilliant white kit and riding stonking white ‘Hinault’ bikes.

He was actually riding in the race with us! I couldn’t believe it. For those of you who don’t know who Bernard Hinault is, try Googling him – 5-times Tour de France winner, World Cycling Champion, French sporting hero, etc. etc.

It was obvious that M. Hinault was not cycle fit though, he was carrying a few extra kgs compared to his racing days, but he was no more than 10 feet away from Daniel and me when the starting gun went off.

Now, here’s my first mistake:

I determined to stay with the Great Man for as long as possible, despite the fact that working too hard too early could kill me off and ruin the race for me. But, what the feck? How often am I going to be able to say that I cycled with a true sporting great?

I managed to stay with the leading peloton for all of 5 miles before we reached the first of the steep hills outside of town - the peloton split in two. I just knew that was the last I would see of M. Hinault until after I had hit the showers, so to speak.

So many bloody, bloody hills.........

I am simply too big and heavy to be a good climber. Most race climbers are tiny little chaps with no body fat, weighing in at around the 65 kgs mark. Daniel tips the scales at 62 kgs if his clothes are soaking wet, and he just loves the hills – I don’t know whether you have gathered this, but I do not.

All the way around the first part of the course Daniel kept ‘nipping at my heels’ until about the 30 mile mark when the first really, really tough hill climbs started; we became separated. I didn’t see Daniel again until the finishing line.

Throughout the race I kept being dropped by the peloton on every climb and had to work like the devil the catch up on the flats and the descents. Fortunately, my weight and size do help on the descents and I can usually generate speed quickly enough to overtake people on the descents, so long as the roads aren’t too circuitous; my bike-handling skills leave a lot to be desired. I have also discovered that I can ratchet up the speed on the flats and the slight inclines. Now I’m not saying I’m at all competitive, but I do seem to be able to stay with most groups so long as the climbs aren’t too steep – at least during Cyclo Sportifs anyway.

At about mid-way, the roads became quite narrow and reasonably devoid of traffic and the peloton kept bunching up at the frequent turnings.

I have discovered that after a sharp turning, say after a junction, everybody drops a gear, gets out of the saddle and builds up the speed again if the road conditions allow. It helps to keep alert at these times or you can find yourself dropping behind and having to work really hard to get back in touch.

I have also discovered that, for some reason, I find it more difficult to negotiate tight left-hand turns than right-hand ones. I have no idea why that should be; whether it is a result of my cack-handedness or not. I’d be interested to know whether right-handers find right turns more challenging. (Send answers please - on the back of a ten pound note)

There was one hairy moment at about 50 miles when an oncoming car had stopped, half on and half off a verge, around a sharp bend in the road. We were bowling along at over 20 mph and I was in the middle of the pack at the time and suddenly a shout came out and all of us had to ram on the anchors! My back wheel skidded a little and I thought we were in trouble but luckily the roads were dry and we managed to avoid an almost inevitable collision.

I haven’t given you a weather update for a while, but anyway, the weather improved before the start of the race and by this time the sun was out; although the wind was still gusting quite strongly at times.

Things settled down for a few miles and the roads broadened out and the terrain became less hilly and only gently undulating as we turned for home. Once again, when we turned homeward, we suffered a bloody great headwind. Why is it that the run in to home always seems to be accompanied by a bloody headwind? Send answers please - on the back of a ten pound note) – sorry, I’ve already done that one.

The attack:

Following my reasonably strong finish at Lamballe the previous weekend, I had determined that should the opportunity arise, I would try to attack on the run in to home, just to see what would happen. Well, at 60 miles or so, I had positioned myself within about twenty places of the leaders on the outside of the peloton. I can’t tell for sure, it’s difficult to judge what is going on when you are in the middle of a large bunch of cyclists, but I’m guessing that there were at least a hundred riders in the group at this stage.

I gathered myself and waited for the right conditions to attack. I was hoping to go at the next long, gentle ascent when two riders surged past on the outside of me, flirting with oncoming traffic.

I didn’t stop to think, I just reacted and jumped onto the rear wheel of the second rider and kicked hard. We sprinted past the leaders of the peloton before they had time to do anything and soon got down to some chain-work – that’s where each rider takes turns at the front to protect the others from the wind. You can increase the speed but reduce the individual workload. It worked!

After a couple of minutes I took the opportunity to glance behind and couldn’t see the peloton – it had fallen back and was hidden behind a long curve in the road.

We’d done it!

We’d stolen a march on the peloton and were driving hard for the finish with only about ten or twelve miles to go! I felt great. I’m guessing that was what it must feel like to those breakaway stage leaders during professional races. It really felt like we had made a decisive break.

Then the hills returned and I was stuffed!

A long, steep, winding uphill put paid to me. My legs buckled and thighs started to burn and for the first time in years I could tell that I was working at my maximum heart-rate. The other two guys in the breakaway soon left me for dead; I never saw them again.

I drove on as hard as I could, desperately trying to make the summit before being swallowed up by the bunch, but with a lull in the wind, I could actually hear the drone of the peloton as it inexorably closed in. Then, one-by-one they started passing me at speed. I don’t know how many overtook me before I reached the top of that damned hill, but it seemed like dozens.

At this stage, I genuinely thought I was done and might not even be able to reach the finish. There was only about 8 miles to go, but such was the heartache of being swept up by the pack I was distraught and this was after only being away for a few minutes. Just imagine how it feels for those Tour de France breakaways that have been away all day only to be caught within a couple of kilometres of the line – heart-breaking.

At the top of the hill I rallied a bit and a long descent had me sweeping past a few of those that had just overtaken me. The group had begun to fragment on the run in to home and I could see a large bunch of riders with stragglers behind about a mile away on the other side of the steep valley I was currently descending at over 30 mph. The group and the stragglers looked like they were almost stopped and as a result I was rapidly closing the gap.

As an aside here, have you ever been on a cycle ride and you are at the top of a hill looking down and you can see the ribbon of road stretching away, winding up to the top of a hill on the other side of the valley? Well, often the ascent looks really fearsome but turns out not to be as bad as you think. I guess it is something to do with perspective that makes the uphill look a lot worse than it is. Well, that is not always the case and this was one of those times where the reality of the climb was a great deal worse than it looked.

I was closing rapidly on the descent because the cyclists ahead were nearly at a standstill! This was the steepest hill I have climb in many a long year. It wasn’t all that long, perhaps a half mile, but it was damnably steep and we had already covered 71 tough miles; our legs had already taken a hell of a pounding. Up ahead, towards the top of the hill I could actually see some of the riders had dismounted and were walking up! I kid you not, some were actually walking – as I said the hill was steep.

I dropped down to my lowest gear, I almost never use this one – I keep it in reserve for just this sort of emergency (it’s a 24 toothed sprocket with a 42 toothed crain-ring – for the technically minded amongst you). I gritted my teeth, literally, and drove hard for the top.

For almost the first time I began passing cyclists on an ascent; I must be stronger that I think. I drove past those who were pushing their bike and noticed a few of them were dressed in gleaming white. I did a double-take and sure enough, it was the Hinault team! One had obviously cramped up pretty badly and was limping big time. Near the top of the hill I passed a large pool of vomit – somebody had really blown his or her lunch.

Then I nearly fell of the bike. In front of me was the Great Man waiting at the top of the hill for his team-mates! I swear to God, I had actually caught up with Bernard Hinault! He must have been taking it easy to stay with his ‘family’, but what the hell, I was cycling with the World famous Bernard Hinault!

There was a round-about at the top of the hill, which my new best mate (sic), M. Hinault and I and a few others circled twice, allowing time for his team to catch up with us.

I swear to you by all that I hold of value that I am not making this up!

After the team had joined up, we all rode the last few miles quite sedately, to the finishThe group was about 15- strong. Out of respect for his stature, we allowed M. Hinault to cross the line first, none of us dreaming to force a sprint finish.

I shook hands with M. Hinault at the end and I am certain that any photos taken of him finishing will include me; I was within touching distance of him when we crossed the line!

The race was followed by a nice, civilised meal. A truly wonderful day, especially after the weather warmed up and I found myself cycling with the Great Man!!!!!

The results:

Race distance – 195 kms		Total number of competitors – 231
Name	Time	Race Position	Percentile	Comments
Andy Shaw	5:19:54	32nd	13%	I told you he was good! And he swears he doesn’t have time to do that much training! He’s small and light and obviously a very good climber

Race distance – 120 kms		Total number of competitors – 479
Name	Time	Race Position	Percentile	Comments
Kerry Donovan	3:48:43	222nd	46%	Toughest cycle ride I have ever done – apart from the Paris-Roubaix way back in 1997. I might write about that sometime.
Daniel Dunot	3:58:36	152nd	75%	Kept ‘nipping at my heels’ until about 40 miles, and then must have dropped back.

Jean and Thibault also finished their race, but I don’t know their surnames so cannot find their results.